


Heat

by jhopeinfiresme



Series: Nights to Remember [4]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Ambiguous Down There Parts, Biting, Canon Non-Binary Character, Feelings, Flirting, Friends With Benefits, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Light Angst, Marks, Mild Sexual Content, Other, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23790544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhopeinfiresme/pseuds/jhopeinfiresme
Summary: That day after their heated night together, the two of them had laid open their hearts like books, acknowledged they were the same, then closed them again. Elliott flipped through the first pages idly with an encouraging smile, just enough to get Bloodhound to curiously peek at the beginning on their own and meet him on the same page. Bloodhound's head tilts to the side silently as they look steadily at his eyes, then drift down at his body slowly. Taking all the time in the world to look him up and down. A well known heat lights in Elliott's chest that he knows they'll fan to a roaring flame in no time if they keep giving him that kind of attention. It's fun, relieving, and exciting. He definitely wants everything about them.[ concluding part in the Nights To Remember series ]
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Series: Nights to Remember [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1464010
Comments: 12
Kudos: 46





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am with a Phat 20 Bomb! I'll never get 20 kills but I can definitely give you all 20k of these naughty friends. I do realize how long these things are and I'm sure I use it in all my fics but I like to use a " - " to separate things. It's in no way an indicator of a long period of time passing or notable chapters, just uneven separations in the text. Pop down to the end notes if you wanna see how many there are. If you're like me and think too much about where they are, it really doesn't matter. If you need a little landmark as u navigate this beast over time, go on ahead.
> 
> It's been a long time since this series started but this is the last part! I encourage you to glance through the previous ones for a refresher of context. It's mainly it's own thing tho!
> 
> Update/Edit Reason : I recently read it over and decided against updating the typos bc I'm lazy. There is, however, a part near the end that's always felt so wrong and never tilted the plot the way I wanted. I took out and replaced a single sentence so it captures the moment better.

He takes his time. He admits, he dances around them a bit. He tries to catch their eyes or read their body, looking for anything that might be a good sign. Admittedly, he doesn't exactly know what that sign would be, but he's hoping it's something a little sexy. He bumps their shoulder when they're both headed the same way in a manner he thinks could be a little more than friendly. He smiles when they look his way. Not like his usual charming grin for the cameras but like he's glad to see them. Because he is.

Maybe Elliott's being a little bit too hesitant, a little too vague. When the two of them do meet eyes, they do so for an excruciating few seconds. Elliott's face goes hot, his eyes widen, and his smile nearly cracks. There's a feeling like adrenaline pumping through his whole body until it's the only thing he hears and they're the only thing he sees. Then, they turn away. It feels like a bucket of cold water dumping on his head but he tries to laugh it off each time. They were just looking. Just for a bit. Nothing to it.

Elliott quickly decides to take that feeling, that mixture of fear and expectancy, and turn it into what he really wants. It's hard to gauge their reactions, and Elliott thinks it's because they won't let themself react - at least to something so vague. They said they're inexperienced with… people. He knows this, so he figures they either don't pick up his hints or they don't understand how this kind of interaction could go. But when Elliott decides to turn it up a notch and give a pointed wink in their direction as he pulls off his damp shirt during training, he thinks the way Bloodhound's body gives a jolt and their head falls to the ground quickly is as good a sign as any.

The next few days finds Elliott turning that burning feeling inside him into wonderful flicking flames of arousal. He's not too intrusive, only going as far to show Bloodhound he remembers what the two of them did. He remembers what they said. And he hopes they remember that he wanted to do it again. Elliott takes a seat during meetings and rests his cheek on a hand as he gives nothing but his best bedroom eyes to Bloodhound when they speak. He only breaks when they hesitate in their words, showing them a friendly grin to say he's satisfied. Elliott complains about how hot he is even in the winter and throws off his jacket before spreading himself out on a couch beside Bloodhound. The unmoving arm along the backside of the couch just behind their head, gives Elliott a little bit of edge. He smirks when they jerk their head his way in surprise and stumble in whatever they're fiddling with for entertainment.

When they do happen to meet eyes again, the longer the seconds tick on, the wider Elliott's grin grows, and the chance he has to see Bloodhound's fists curl silently in tension is practically guaranteed. Elliott's eyes flicker down to the red gloves tight in some unknown emotion and flick back up to the lenses with something much more dark, much more knowing. That day after their heated night together, the two of them had laid open their hearts like books, acknowledged they were the same, then closed them again. Elliott flipped through the first pages idly with an encouraging smile, just enough to get Bloodhound to curiously peek at the beginning on their own and meet him on the same page.

Bloodhound catches on quickly after his fun little flirting bouts. When they see him in a crowd their head angles slowly to the side, mask unreadable to all but Elliott. They stare with their hands on their gear, helmet tilting down as the only indication that they're looking him up and down. The blush that overcomes Elliott's cheeks is not as intense as the excitement bubbling in his chest. He gives a quick wink and their chin tilts up just before they turn away.

The two of them dance around each other like this for a bit longer, enjoying the flirting and tension that comes from an act they never thought they would do. They both know they'll see each other again. Soon, they'll get together and hide in plain sight just so they'll be able to indulge again. For now, while the idea is still a little foreign, Bloodhound will sit back with their arms over the back of the seat and watch in silence as Elliott cautiously gives them a teasing show. He loves the attention they can so easily give him. Anything he does from sparring with a teammate to parading himself in front of a camera, Elliott makes sure to offer his sultry gaze and agile movements for their hidden, unwavering eyes.

It doesn't take much longer for things to finally pick up speed. A new season is about to start and Elliott is feeling restless. He's been working hard on his body and his gear, and despite how fun flirting with Bloodhound around the others may be, he wants to do it properly. Elliott rarely finds Bloodhound on weekends. They're often either in the green house or in their own home. Any time they're out in the town is when they're looking for an item no one's ever heard before. So Elliott waits patiently for a moment on the weekday to rope them into conversation.

He catches them leaving the shooting range, Caustic right beside them with his usual scowl visible even over a gas mask. Elliott quickly skips up in front, grinning to the both of them, "Hey, Hound, Caustic!"

They stop for him. Bloodhound gives a dip of the helmet in greeting while Caustic turns his glare to Elliott and grumbles under his breath. They might have been talking together, but it's hard to tell when he can't see their mouths.

"We'll continue this conversation later," Caustic directs toward Bloodhound.

"Of course," they reply, then turn to Elliott when he leaves. Their head tilts to the side as they wait.

Elliott's eyes sparkle at the attention. He prompts them to walk together easily. "Didn't think the two of you were that close, you know. He's kinda crazy and you're kinda not."

They shrug calmly, "He respects the natural order and I follow it. It's a way for me to get what I want."

"The natural order, huh?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Yes. The natural relation of things without the presence of law."

He hums, "And you want that?"

Bloodhound slows to a stop, Elliott coming to stand in front of them with a small, casual smile and traces of curiosity in his eyes. They stare for a moment. He's patient. "I want what I'm not allowed."

Elliott's smile grows, amused, then slips away as he looks around for an audience. They're in the Legend Tower, a temporary place for legends to stay so they can be close to the officials for their beck and call. It's not used often, but is definitely highly monitored. He finds three cameras in a slow glance. Bloodhound follows his gaze with and releases a breath.

"And what is it that you want?" Their voice is low, gentle, and layered in meanings they can't say as clearly.

His lips quirk up, the fire returning to his chest as he hears familiar words in a familiar tone. Elliott's eyes flick up to theirs as he smirks. "The same thing," he says.

Bloodhound hums, the sound coming out deep through their mask. Their head tilts casually, like it always does when they're intrigued, and they take a small step forward. It takes half a second for Elliott to forget about the cameras and if someone's even behind one because there's a hand coming close between them. Bloodhound taps the underside of his chin with the knuckle of their finger. It tilts his head up so they can hold it gently with their thumb and forefinger. Though a blush quickly works it's way up to his cheeks, Elliott gives them a smirk, an invitation and approval.

"Tell me," they say, close to a whisper. "I want to hear it."

Elliott's eyes darken while Bloodhound tips his head back down to level with them. Their hand remains ghosting over his beard like they're afraid to touch or let him go. That wonderfully unique accent curls its way deep inside him. All Elliott wants to do is speak to them casually and plainly about everything he wants. He wants them, but he promised to be careful.

Turning his chin away from their hand slowly, Elliott regains his composure enough to speak evenly. "What are up to later?" he asks.

Bloodhound's hand falls to their side, understanding the two of them might be too close. "When is later."

He shrugs, "I don't know, uh, tomorrow - night? Weekend? Whenever you want it to be."

"Ah…" Their head drifts to the side as their hands come to grip at their equipment. "I'm busy this week. But I have time… Saturday."

The subtle hesitance in their words should make Elliott worried, but with the teasing way they've been acting lately, he knows they're up for this just as much as he is. They're just a little embarrassed saying it. He smiles brightly, "Awesome, I'm free too. My - um, my place, yeah? Not my place but my uh--"

"Yes," they interrupt, knowing he's trying not to say his 'bar'. They give a swift nod, then step back a bit. "How is nine for you?"

"Perfect. Yeah, good." Elliott agrees easily. They nod again silently and he chuckles. "Maybe you can teach me a little about the natural order, huh? It'll be fun. See you then!"

As Elliott skips back, he gives a wink and a salute with a blush over his face. Bloodhound tilts their head up as they watch him turn away. "If you can find me…" they say.

"I always find you!" Elliott is quick to respond without turning back. He grins all the way up to his flat and more when he recounts the interaction again. He'll never get tired of the carefully controlled way they flirt with him with nothing but their steady voice and watchful eyes.

-

For being so late in the night, the bar is teeming with people. There's a certain theme Elliott wants his bar to have, but sometimes it's Mirage's Bar instead. He loves a comfortable place to talk and drink with friends. A place with music that everyone can't help but enjoy, with chatty regulars that stay just late enough that they can still get a good night's rest before the next day. Elliott wants his bar to be a place like that.

Unfortunately for Elliott Witt, the bar that's owned by Mirage has become a more upbeat area. It's a place where anyone can bring their friend or acquaintance for a good time. Whatever that means to them. The early evening hours find the room filled with casual drinkers and the occasional dancers, then as the night becomes long, the songs seem to change too. People grab a friend or two or three and head to the center to feel a little alive. It's good for business, but Elliott himself likes to take his casual drink elsewhere.

Elliott steps carefully through the crowd of people like he's grown accustomed to. He knows his way around the place but the path to the counter is always the most familiar. It seems to be the only place he can get a quality chat and ends up being the best place to feel like he's making someone's day if he's on the other side of it. Tonight, he's not planning on lingering here for long. He has someone to look for after snatching up a quick drink.

There's a constant brush of bodies against his back as he waits a moment for his turn. The room is warm, but thankfully not stuffy. Elliott is wearing a button up tonight, a silky black one that's stylishly fitted and folded just beneath the elbow. It keeps him looking casual yet sexy while also letting his movement cool him down. He's back in the crowd in no time, holding his cold glass of water close as he keeps an eye out for Bloodhound.

At first, Elliott didn't think they would be the type to mess around with someone while still in the Apex Games. They seem too busy and devoted to the Games and their faith to go out like this. His perspective was flipped at Anita's house party when he learned they like to have a little fun every once in a while. It shouldn't be surprising, but he was intrigued at their idea of taking a night off work. He relates.

Elliott himself isn't the type to sleep with someone he's especially close with, so he can't say much when Bloodhound decided to do the same. Their relationship happened to give them a connection, not a reason to stay away. What really throws Elliott off is his own desire to do it again. He rarely sees the same person more than once, but he found himself thinking about no one but Bloodhound. How liberating and satisfying and pleasurable their time was. It was exciting, new, and familiar all at once. He was comfortable, and they were too. He thinks that's the secret to a night that never ends.

So Elliott is doing his best to find Bloodhound in the crowd. They gave him a wonderful night, and they said they enjoyed it too, enough to have that desire coax their flirting. He isn't entirely sure what they meant when they questioned if he could find them. Even drunk Elliott managed to single them out on two different occasions. The last he was just about sober. He can find them. And he does.

In the back of the room, where a few booths remain empty, sits a stunning person with one arm over the back of the seat and the other holding a neon yellow drink to their lips. They're facing away, watching the crowd with that signature indifference that might be boredom or just a face resting in a daze. Elliott grins when he sees them. Their pose is recognizable even without their gear and their stoic expression is one only their mask can mimic. He spots them easily because he sees them so often.

There's an obvious difference however, from last time they didn't have their gear and now. Their pearl white hair is held back with a simple tie at the back, two small braids coming from their temples like last time, just not so intricate. Long strands of hair fall at each side by their dark eyes as stylish bangs. Their shirt covers much more skin tonight as a tee partially tucked into denim jeans. The shirt is a deep blue with flecks of yellow swimming around their torso like shimmers of gold in a pond. Their jeans aren't ripped to show skin but he's sure it fits them just as tightly.

As Elliott comes closer, he can see the marks on their arms more clearly. The arrangement of thick and thin scars laced between inky black tendrils and symbols. It's obvious they look more masculine tonight, enough for Elliott to think to use those pronouns out in public like this. But he doesn't need to because they're stunning and he can just walk up and say, "Hey. Is that seat taken?"

Their eyes flick to Elliott's grinning face like they saw him coming before he got so close. He wouldn't put it past them. Bloodhound's head tilts to the side silently as they look steadily at his eyes, then drift down at his body slowly. A well known heat lights in Elliott's chest that he knows they'll fan to a roaring flame in no time if they keep giving him that kind of attention.

Bloodhound finally catches his eyes again before shrugging and offering the booth with a tick of their head. He smiles, "Ah, I was talking about that seat." He gestures to their lap and they raise an eyebrow.

A smile of their own tugs at Bloodhound's lips but they cover it with a sip of their drink. "Sit where you please."

He laughs, seating himself just underneath their outstretched arm. Elliott definitely notices the side glance they give him and the subtle darkness on their cheeks. He sighs, proud, and makes himself comfortable.

"I like the look, you know," he comments. "Did you really think I wouldn't find you?"

Bloodhound shrugs, looking out at the crowd. "I wanted to know if you could." Their voice is low, just loud enough for Elliott to hear and quiet enough for their privacy to remain intact. It's the same as the last time he heard them without their mask. A little higher without a muffler but unique and deep all the same.

"And I told you I always find you. I did three times without even trying, twice drunk too, right? You're easy to spot, even changing clothes."

"That's concerning," they say gently.

He chuckles, "It's proof I know you too well. And your hair and tattoos are kinda hard to miss. If you really don't wanna stand out you could cover 'em."

Bloodhound turns to him with a raised eyebrow. "I would think you'd understand. Seeing how much you like showing off your marks."

"Only when they come from you," he winks. They blink, lips parting slightly as they take in the subtlest breath. Elliott's eyes flicker down to watch in hopes of seeing glimpses of gold. "I like 'em though. I'd hate to see you cover yourself."

They don't respond. Instead, Bloodhound tilts their head and leans close. The hand once holding their drink comes up to touch Elliott's chin gently so cold fingertips can guide his mouth to theirs. He smirks, sees their dark eyes trained on his lips, then meets them in the middle to close the distance. They taste sweet, like lemonade. The two kiss softly, just once, maybe twice, but enough to have them both sighing in satisfaction.

Elliott licks his lips to taste that sweet drink for himself before chuckling and pulling away. Bloodhound's mouth quirks up like a smirk to show a shiny gold canine. His heart beats a little faster when he sees it.

"You're a - a bit different than last time," Elliott comments. There's a squirming feeling in his stomach as they watch him attentively. "You were a lot more shy before you let me touch you."

They hum as he looks down to take a sip of his drink, letting the water cool him down from the inside. "I was nervous," they say. "I wondered if I was wrong to let you get so invested in speaking with me without knowing who I was."

"Well, I like this better, if - if it matters."

"You did not like the woman you saw?" Bloodhound asks. Their voice is quiet, curious, and unthreatening, but Elliott feels like he messed up anyway.

His eyes widen when he looks at them anxiously and stumbles over his words. "No! I mean, yes! I mean… I - I like you whenever. However - you look. I'm just saying… I uh…"

"It's alright," they tell him with a careful expression. His face is hot but they're as calm as ever. "I want to know what you like."

Elliott blushes and quickly looks away. "That not - uh, what I mean?" He takes a breath when they wait for him patiently. "I think you're hot. It doesn't really matter what you wear. I just mean… I like you when you're not so nervous. That - woman - I liked her. She was pretty and let me dance but we were just talking. I liked her - I liked her better when we were in the bathroom. I like you better when we don't have to worry about all the names."

Bloodhound's eyebrows are raised. He surprised them, but he keeps going. "I know you were nervous about the whole consent part. So I really just like when we're both comfortable."

"Yes," they nod, a light to their eyes like he read their mind. Elliott blushes. All of sudden he feels embarrassed for ruining the mood and talking so much. Bloodhound, however, doesn't seem to mind the shift. "I'm glad, Elliott. I am. We may have begun wrong, but I'm grateful you always speak to me clearly."

"Talking like this isn't as sexy as earlier, though, not gonna lie," Elliott says with a scrunch of his nose. "I liked the whole flirting bit of the past few weeks a lot more."

A hand comes up to tilt Elliott's head again. This time, Bloodhound cups his face and strokes his beard with their thumb. "Then let's enjoy each other without all that talking, hm?"

Their lips part in a thrilling smirk that has Elliott's blood pumping in excitement. He mirrors the grin before grabbing a handful of their shirt and pressing his mouth to theirs. Bloodhound groans a long, pleasured sound that he feels vibrate through his body. All at once he wants nothing more than to pull them closer. He wants to feel them against his skin and taste everything they offer until they're both gasping messes of grins and moans.

-

The second time is amazing. So is the third. And the night after that. In fact, every night of theirs is more than satisfying. That second morning had no traces of discomfort or misunderstanding. Elliott woke up to Bloodhound quietly pulling on their clothes like last time as he sighed and watched all his marks disappear again. He drove them down to the same little stop at the fire hydrant as requested and waved them off with a small shared smile.

The mornings all turn out nearly the same. Bloodhound always wakes first and makes sure Elliott is up by the time they're dressed. They've begun to use his shower either just before they fall asleep or first thing when they wake up. Elliott has even teased about them using it together but Bloodhound brushed it off saying it's the least arousing thing they've heard of. They stick to taking turns. Because Bloodhound always takes varying public transport to their meet up, Elliott drops them off where they tell him the next morning. Bloodhound tells him they let him stop closer and closer to their actual house each time, but he has yet to actually see it, especially because the sun never rises before they've left his car. The both of them start to feel antsy the brighter it gets.

Their nights are rather repetitive too, but neither of them complain. They each stop by a selected bar at a chosen time just to have a place to meet up as Elliott and Someone Else. Most times they just take a water or something sweet with sugar as they chat each other up, each enjoying to play pretend just to flirt openly. Sometimes the two of them would drink together, never just one at a time, as they felt uncomfortable about one of them being more intoxicated than the other. They would still laugh and touch and dance before taking a cab to Elliott's home so they could have some more fun.

As months slip by, Elliott and Bloodhound easily find themself in a comfortable friends with benefits situation, though it's never truly labeled. The two of them are adults however, and talk freely about what they are and aren't comfortable with, especially in terms of public displays of affection. It's mutually decided they both enjoy spending nights together with little to no indication of it any other time of day.

It works. Elliott loves to have them all to himself on their sporadic nights. He loves the different ways they dress up to meet him at the bar, he loves to lay them down and press kisses over their ink, and he loves to push and pull with them with unrestricted pleasure on his face knowing he's taken care of in just the same way he takes care of them. Since their beginning there's been no fumbling over dominance or control because being friends for so long cleared away a path for them to simply polish off.

What's strange to note is Elliott's easier reading of Bloodhound even now with all their gear. He picks up on the subtle shift in their tone and the once mysterious quirks in their movements. Now with the delight of being able to hear those noises and see their body move up close and personal without all the bulky equipment or constricting mask, Elliott's become a sort of expert on Bloodhound. Well, he can at least read them better than the rest of the Legends and can say he knows more about them than any sneaky reporter.

As close as they become, Elliott still finds himself surprised at little things he finds Bloodhound doing. When spring comes by, Elliott wakes up to the rhythmic thrumming of rain against his window. It's only a couple hours after the two of them took showers and turned the lights out for the night, so he's still fairly groggy to be up before their usual time.

The first thing he hears is the rain on the house, the first thing he smells is the crisp scent of wet concrete, the first thing he feels is the cool breeze ghosting by to caress his heated body. Then he sees the dark bedroom painted in a faint blue glow from the moon, and feels around to find nothing in the sheets beside him. The breeze has since cooled the covers, but a quick glance back shows Bloodhound right outside, on his small open balcony.

Elliott shuffles around with whatever blanket or sheet he happens to grab hold of to meet Bloodhound out at the balcony. They lean against the railing with a shirt and some underwear. Their arms are speckled with water droplets as well as their face and the edges of their hair despite being covered beneath the overhead. It's as if they reached out to touch the rain and feel it on their face for as long as they pleased. Elliott pads beside them and silently offers a side of the blanket anyway.

Bloodhound declines and turns back to watch the rain fall over the city, blurring the night lights and creating clouds of mist on the rooftops. The tumbling rain on metal and concrete nearly draws Elliott back to sleep right there on the balcony railing but he pulls his eyes to Bloodhound instead.

"What're you doin' out here?" he asks after some time. The wind is cold enough to have him clutch at the blanket but Bloodhound doesn't move.

"I want to… be here. In the rain," they say softly. Their voice is just as groggy as his, tired and deep from the late night. There's a hesitance Elliott picks up on that shows they decided not to tell him something.

"Why's that?"

"I…" Bloodhound pauses. Elliott waits to see if they'll continue. He watches instead as Bloodhound extends their arms out in front of them. The rain pours down on them all the way up to the sleeves of their shirt until the edges are soaked and their skin is too. He just watches, too tired to be surprised but too accustomed to them to think they're crazy. They wipe their face with their wet hands, then run their hands through their hair, before sighing a heavy weight off and leaning forward with their arms over the rail.

"I want to feel him," they say in a whisper. "I want to feel his message."

Elliott blinks at them, then up at the sky. Even half asleep, he understands easily. "Oh. Who?"

"Freyr."

He hums in reply, but doesn't leave. Even as the wind shifts to spray rain in his face and he notices the bumps on their beautiful chocolate skin, Elliott stays.

"Freyr… controls the rain. He gives his blessing each season for a peaceful and plentiful year." Bloodhound takes in a breath, holds it in for a moment, then releases. "I want his blessing. To feel his message."

Elliott leans against his palm and has started to watch Bloodhound's glistening features in the moonlit rain. "What's he…? What d'you think… he's blessing? For you…?"

Bloodhound smiles softly to the sky. He doesn't really know what he's talking about, but he wants to. "I'd like to know that as well. I suspect… he led us here. Right now. For just this moment. It was the rain that woke you, was it not?"

"Uh… yeah, I guess? It was also kinda cold and I didn't know where you were."

They chuckle, a sound lost to the wind and rain, but a sight caught by Elliott's attentive eye. "Freyr is not just the god of rain. He provides health and abundance, peace and fertility. His benevolence manifests in more ways than one." They look at Elliott with light in their eyes. "His blessing is a treasure."

Elliott blinks softly at them, a small smile at his lips. They see it and return it. He carefully puts his hands out into the pouring rain. He's still a little afraid of ruining the blanket, but it's only to be expected. "So you think he brought me out here?" he wonders.

"Yes," they breathe. There's something soft in their tone he doesn't recognize.

He's too focused on wetting his hands, then bringing them close to inspect the small pool inside. In a split decision, Elliott promptly throws the tiny pool in his face. He wipes the water over his skin and gasps at how cold it is. Bloodhound lets out a hearty laugh when they see it. Their laughter harmonizes with the pattering of rain like music. When Elliott glances to them with a crooked smile, he sees pure joy and the widest grin yet. Gold flashes in the moonlight amidst the streaks of lightning in the glossy rivers on their skin. All at once he laughs with them and forgets the cold.

"Oh, Elliott, Freyr has blessed you more than you know. He has been with us all this time."

Elliott isn't sure why he put himself out in the rain like that. He didn't mean to try to be blessed, but he feels a warmth in his heart hearing Bloodhound believes he already is. He simply wanted to be there with them. Elliott ushers them inside and helps them dry off with a towel, trading out their damp shirt for a dry one as well. That night, sometime between when they fell back asleep and when Bloodhound usually wakes up, Elliott notices they're shivering in their sleep. He takes the effort to pull out a spare duvet from the closet and spread it over the two of them, generously toward Bloodhound, even if he's going to have to put it away just an hour later.

Other surprises don't seem to linger with Elliott for so long. He is glad to find out how interested Bloodhound is in making marks on each other with their mouths. Despite not putting their own on Elliott as much as he does them, they always take the time to slow down their movements so Elliott can bite and suck as he pleases. Elliott knows he's always been a biter, and he always has to gauge his partners' compatibility with that when he goes out, but he's never really had to do that with Bloodhound. Anytime, either when they're in the heat of the moment or just getting each other warmed up, Bloodhound never pushes Elliott away when he gravitates toward their skin.

They let him kiss and suck at their neck, their chest, and even their legs. All the while they keep a hand in his hair and a smile on their face. The morning always has Bloodhound's chocolate skin covered in purple and red spots like leopard print. Elliott loves to use his mouth, enough that it's absolutely a Thing, but he wonders sometimes if he goes too far.

"If uh, if you ever want me to stop, Hound, you can always tell me, you know," he ends up telling them one morning. Bloodhound could be a leech victim if Elliott tried to make himself feel bad. There are bruises up to their chin, bites just above their heart, spots on their stomach, and, of course, dark circles inside their thighs. He went overboard last night. It might have been because it was right after they won a Game with Elliott in the second squad. They were both racking up kills left and right, the pressure inside themselves building and trickling over until the last fight, then finally overflowing when they got to see each other properly.

"I know this. What do you mean?" Bloodhound asks. He can see them drying themself off in his bathroom, looking in the mirror indifferently. Under the bright lights, the red and purple seem painful. Elliott doesn't respond. They frown and glance at him. His inner dilemma must be obvious on his face because Bloodhound's shoulders fall gently.

They gesture for him to stand beside them, he does so with mild discomfort, then Bloodhound pulls him in front of the mirror with a huff. "Do you see? We are the same," they say.

The two of them are shirtless. Though Bloodhound's skin is more heavily covered in his bruises and their own scarring, Elliott's is more… frightening. Bloodhound doesn't give him hickies often. They lick and kiss at his skin sometimes, but they hardly desire to try to leave a mark. When they do, they whisper 'Careful,' to him as they hold his neck steady, then take a nip of skin between their teeth to suck and lap as best they can. Their canines can be sharp and dangerous, so the hickies they leave are bruises stained dark with lines of sensitive skin, indents of teeth, and the usual paint of red. If Bloodhound was attacked by a hundred leeches, Elliott was mauled by a vampire.

Elliott has always loved to show off, especially his hickies after a night out. It's a mixture of showing off sex appeal and feeling proud he's found someone who's into the same small things he is. That morning, when Bloodhound showed him they were even, and actually took a minute to give him one more bite, it dissolved his worries. They've told him his marks itch and rub the wrong way in their gear, but waved off his fretting by saying it grounds them. Their nights aren't just a secret in the dark, it's an action that lingers in the day. He sort of understands.

The other Legends however, don't. As Bloodhound and Elliott's 'benefits' continued, Elliott drew away from going out of his way to show off their marks. However, as time went by, Bloodhound has become more comfortable with leaving them, so he doesn't actually have to wear revealing clothes to reveal the bites. It's a blessing and a curse because the other Legends are starting to notice a pattern.

"Wow, dude, you're literally just doin' the same person aren't you?" Octavio's voice pops up from behind.

"Huh? Wh- ow! You little--!" Elliott swipes at him but the man jumps out of reach easily with a cackle. Elliott sticks his tongue out and rubs his skin carefully where Octavio had pinched one of Bloodhound's bruises. It'll probably bloom an obnoxious red now for the rest of the day.

Octavio dances around Elliott with a mischievous smile. "But you are, aren't you? Doin' the same girl?" Elliott stops to stare at him, trying to remember what he told him so long ago while trying to figure out how to get out of the conversation completely. He gets poked on another bite for taking too long.

"Ow! That hurts, you demon!"

"Haha! I'm right! See 'cause they're the same kinda size and the same scratchy things at the edges." Octavio leans close to ogle at his skin but Elliott quickly waves him away. "She's real bitey, right? That's what those are? She bites you more than sucks you, huh? Ahahaha! Oh man, I feel bad for your di--!"

Elliott promptly shoves his hands over the man's mouth with a deep blush while Octavio does nothing but laugh. "N-no! No, you idiot, it's not - not from the same - she isn't the one who - just no!"

Octavio wipes a tear but Elliott is brimming with anxiety. "Heheheh! You're even defending her, she's definitely still around."

"No," Elliott states as sternly as he can muster. There must be something wrong with his face because Octavio doesn't buy it.

"See! You would've told me all about who it actually is if it were really another person." Elliott opens his mouth to retaliate. "But wait wait wait! I get it! I do, hold on. If she's still around then you guys are _together_ and if you guys are together then the media would freak out, and even you and I know that's no bueno. Might as well tell her to get a new identity, huh?"

Elliott scowls at the younger man. He isn't wrong in that dating scandals aren't good. The reason Bloodhound didn't want to be seen with Elliott even without recognizable gear was because if someone noticed, they would connect some dots and say he's dating. Then Bloodhound would be cornered and questioned and followed and plastered on every board in the Frontier. That's the last thing any partner wants. It's the last thing Bloodhound wants. Octavio gets that and doesn't want to let the topic go, so Elliott's safest bet is to roll with it.

"Fine," he says, frowning harshly. He hopes this does well for Bloodhound. "She's still around and I don't want anyone to know, got it?"

"Ohoho man, I totally knew it!" Octavio punches the air joyfully. "Don't worry, man, I totally got you! I won't tell a soul! Actually maybe Ajay. She's kinda freaked out you look like a prowler fucked you up every now and then. Can I tell Ajay? We'll keep your secret, promise! It'll help too! We can know to cover your ass at interviews and stuff! Please please please please!"

Elliott groans and rolls his eyes. "Ugh, I guess," he gives in, mostly to keep him quiet. "But only her. And if any other Legends find out, I _will_ throw you into a prowler den and break the key."

Octavio chuckles maniacally. "Dude, you know just how much I'd be into that."

-

Nearly six months have passed this way. Bloodhound and Elliott have passed their overly passionate phase and have started to see each other less. There's no wane in their relationship, there's simply an acknowledgment that what they have is still alive and stable and comfortable. They have a system that works when they want it, especially when they need it. The two meet up at some bar multiple times a month, but not every week like they used to.

Bloodhound finally lets Elliott drop them off at their house just a couple months in. It's shockingly normal, one story, picket fence, neutral colors in a forest of greenery. There are trees that have been there for ages Elliott suspects is a reason they picked the spot. It's a quiet neighborhood with no children, outside of all the noise of the inner city. The only thing that really surprises him is the half hour walk Elliott estimates they had to take each time he dropped them off some blocks away. Bloodhound only sighed in amusement. They said they're a fully capable adult who happens to enjoy taking long walks. Elliott believes them, but says he's never letting someone walk home alone ever again.

Even as the underlying arousal between them became a tame fire instead of a roaring flame, their sexual spark never dimminshed. The sex is always great and satisfying. There's less aggressive pent up sexual tension and more mutual pleasure in taking time off from work. It's a comfortable benefit they both enjoy repeating. Hiding it from their coworkers becomes less of a hassle. When they first started this, Elliott was bent on showing them how much he wanted to keep their system going. He teased them and touched them to see their response and know if they were still into it too. It was dangerous then. Now, they're back to their casual friendly chatting and relations even without an audience. Now more than ever, they're simply friends with benefits.

It's not often Bloodhound and Elliott touch in public, but sometimes he likes to give them an obvious look up and down or likes to grab at their mask to push them around a bit. It's all fun teasing Mirage is known for. Bloodhound, however, has never been too big on PDA. They let him mess around while they sigh and chuckle quietly but they rarely respond with their own meaningful touch of his waist or tilt of his chin. If they feel a… want, they ask him about a time so they can fulfill it.

They're methodical like that, and it's refreshing for Elliott. Except, he should know by now how they can startle him with little things he finds them doing. Like, for instance, copping a feel in the shooting range. Bloodhound isn't actually feeling Elliott up in any sort of sexy way, he notes quickly, but rather just touching his face in a more curious one.

Elliott's arms are too tired from pushing back against the kick of the mastiff he was firing to do anything more than wiggle under the fingers that find their way to his chin. He opens his eyes to squint in confusion at Bloodhound when they pause, then continue to stroke his beard. They're wearing a new outfit that's a variation of the slim and padded bird outfit without the… bird part. They tried to explain plague doctors to the Legends once but was met with weary suspicion. Regardless, that notable beak is replaced with a flat mouthpiece like their warrior outfits. It's less intrusive when Bloodhound sits beside him to touch his face.

"Will you open your mouth?" they ask casually. Their smooth gloves hover above Elliott's confused lips for his permission.

"Huh?" It's not explicit permission, but it definitely opens his mouth. Bloodhound promptly puts a finger between his lips and keeps them open by tracing his bottom lip slowly.

"Thank you."

Elliott snorts. A short glance tells him no one is around, though he can hear knives being thrown in the next room. He lets them continue. "I didn't say you could do that." His words are muffled beyond belief but he knows Bloodhound understands.

"If you wanted me not to, you would show me. You don't mind this." Bloodhound opens his mouth further so they can tap at his front teeth. He makes a tired, indifferent noise in response. Slowly, they trace their finger atop his bottom teeth as far as he allows, then does the same to the top.

"You have very strong teeth," Bloodhound comments curiously. He grunts. "Yes, I'm sure you know that. They're beautiful. Bright, straight, sharp, sturdy."

Elliott has half a mind to think they'll take them. He shakes his head away to have Bloodhound retract their fingers. They remain at his lips patiently when he speaks. "Are you gonna sell my teeth on the market? You'd make more money selling me whole, you know."

Their head tilts to the side. "I wouldn't take them from you. Your smile is simply pretty. I like to look. Open?"

Elliott feels a damp tap at his pursed lips. He narrows his eyes. They didn't say they wouldn't sell him whole. "You got some teeth kink you've been keeping secret all this time?" He jokes with a smile. "Touching people's mouths isn't really common courtesy."

Bloodhound hums and slips in a few fingers when he keeps his lips open for them. "Bones aren't necessarily a source of arousal for me," they say, a smile in their voice.

"As the guy who's been devoting himself to getting you aroused, you're kinda pulling the rug out from under me here." Bloodhound's fingers pause their tapping at his smiling teeth. It takes a second, but Elliott sees the moment they get his joke. Their head tips forward and their shoulders shake, a muffled chuckle comes from behind that mask as the only indication they're enjoying him. Bloodhound laughs often, but without being able to hear it, they sort of just look like they're crying or doing some odd dance.

"Don't worry yourself, Elliott," they say after their small laughing fit. A grin can still be heard, however. "You please me just fine as you do. Besides, shouldn't I be asking you if _you_ like teeth? I do recall a night where you wanted nothing more than to touch mine."

Elliott stops, his mouth slightly open for Bloodhound to poke around in as he thinks about that. He does happen to remember that night. It was a couple months ago, the night so late he could only see them through the glow of the moonlight. Both were too tired to turn on his lamps. He didn't mind, all he wanted to see was clear in front of him.

Bloodhound was above him. Their lips were open to let out quiet groans of pleasure and their eyes were gently closed until a particularly sharp movement made them screw shut. They were mainly controlling the movement so Elliott had not much else to do than meet them in the middle and feel good. He opened his mouth, let them know how amazing they were, and touched their body as much as he pleased. Elliott trailed his hands over their chest, down their marked arms, and scratched at their shoulders. His fingers wandered up their bruised neck, where he had already explored with his mouth, then pressed curiously at their plump lips.

His fingers didn't get very far because between a moan, Bloodhound had twitched their head and shook his fingers off course. Their eyes drifted over his. They were dark and lidded. His thumb pulled their bottom lip down to reveal white teeth surrounded by sharpened gold. He moaned clearly at the sight, their lustful expression, their soft lips on his fingers.

Bloodhound turned their head and let a waterfall of bright hair fall onto their face. Elliott quickly pushed it away so he could see them. "Careful," they said between breaths. The same word he hears before they bite at his skin and the same tone when they're lost in pleasure.

"I will be," he assured. Bloodhound watched him a second, then gave a short nod and closed their eyes to focus on their hips.

Elliott was left to press at their pillowy lips again. He was granted access easily and satisfied his curiosity. As gentle as he could, Elliott traced Bloodhound's teeth with his thumb and dared to slip two more fingers against their tongue when he had them open enough. He wasn't really into that in the end because he found himself solely devoted to tracing their smooth teeth with his fingers. He explored the curves at the sides and pressed softly at the edges as he quietly moaned with them.

The canines took most of his fascination as Elliott stroked the glistening gold with his thumb and bared their teeth so he could see it contrast with the pearl white in the moonlight. They were beautiful and dangerous. Both Bloodhound and their teeth. Eventually, as arousal got the better of him, Elliott decided to press at the corner of one of those sharpened fangs. He felt a pressure more than a prick, but the slide of their mouth dragged his thumb and he had to draw back quickly when he felt a sudden pain bloom.

Bloodhound had stopped when they noticed his fast withdrawal. Their eyes were wide and their mouth was still open as they looked at the hand he kept in a fist. Elliott grinned sheepishly and told them he was fine but they grabbed it to see for themself the small slice in the pad. It wasn't like when they bite his neck and hold the skin there with their teeth, sliding wet skin beside the edges with care. He had pressed down on that bottom canine and it dragged along the muscle with their jostling.

They licked their lips, frowned, and pressed at his thumb. It bled weakly then. Bloodhound narrowed their eyes at Elliott's smiling face. They said nothing but "Be careful," before pressing their lips to his and keeping them connected as they continued their movement.

"Careful," Bloodhound's voice comes to him now. "I'm sure you don't want to deal with that if someone comes in. You know I will leave it to you."

Elliott blinks himself to reality. Bloodhound's fingers are still resting against his open lips but their head is tilted sideways and he realizes they're talking about the blush on his cheeks and the tightening in his pants. Elliott shakes the fingers off and sits up straighter in hopes of cleaning his mind from the memory.

"That's - that's your fault, Hound," he tells Bloodhound. They laugh softly in amusement. "And I put my fingers in your mouth because we were having sex and it was sexy but now we're out in public."

"That doesn't make it my fault for you to still get aroused," they say gently. "I didn't when you touched my teeth."

He frowns curiously at them. "You didn't?"

"No. Not anymore than I already was. If anything I was afraid you would hurt yourself."

"Hm." Elliott shrugs on it. Then he tastes his mouth and gags.

Bloodhound chuckles. "That's my fault. Besides, it's proof you are the one with the teeth kink."

"Yeah? Well maybe we should set up a little experiment to test that out one more time, huh?" Elliott gives them a wink and a small nudge, bad taste in this mouth forgotten.

He watches Bloodhound's helmet sit unmoving. They stay that way for a heartbeat, before they let out a dry hum. There's no lilt to it like the upbeat tone of their toying or of their careful contemplation. There's no deep trill like when they get frustrated or confused. It's dull and monotone and all at once fills Elliott with anxiety.

His smirk slips but the moment it does, Bloodhound turns away. "H-hey, we don't - we don't have to, you know," Elliott tries to explain. Bloodhound's helmet remains tipped to their lap silently. "Yeah, I was just - no, I meant it but you know I'm just offering, like - like we always do. I'm asking and you answer and it's like that so if you don't wanna then you don't wanna and that's--"

"Elliott." He shuts up. "I… That's not it. We haven't… seen each other for some time and though I know you will be understanding, I am still... unsure."

Their voice is tense all of a sudden. It's the only emotion he can find other than distress. Elliott frowns, turning to try to get a good look at them. All he sees is the unfamiliar emotionless mask he can't read like the others.

Something unsettling curls in his stomach that twists his face in worry. "Hound, what - what do you mean? What are you unsure about? Being in public? What's happened?"

He can see their shoulders rise and fall in a silent breath. It takes a few seconds for Bloodhound to finally turn to face him fully. Their attention doesn't keep Elliott's lips from tensing shut. With the smallest shake of their head, Bloodhound reaches between them to carry Elliott's chin in their hand, thumb and forefinger holding him gently. "Do you remember the last time we saw each other?" they ask him instead.

Elliott's brow furrows in confusion but he knows they'll always answer his question. "Kinda? It was a month ago, I think. You're talking about the last time you were in public without all your gear, right?"

"Yes," they nod shortly. Elliott pulls his face from their hand, disgruntled. They only touch him like that before kissing him or when they're admiring him. It's not the same. "I went hunting not long after. That's why it's been some time."

"Yeah…" His mouth pulls to the side, uneasy at the idea of their privacy being invaded. The two of them don't often take so much time away from each other. It's only ever if one of them just isn't in the mood. This break was different because Bloodhound left the city for a week. He has no idea what could have happened. If they were ever out of the media's clutches, if someone else hunted in the same area, if someone caught sight of them with their guard down. Maybe that's why they aren't sure about being seen again.

"I got hurt."

He snaps his head to them, eyes wide with worry. "What? H-How?"

There's a tilt to their helmet when they regard Elliott again. He's too dumbstruck to move when Bloodhound places a hesitant finger on his cheek. Their voice is soft when they trail their gloved fingers beneath his eye. "I wasn't careful. It's been some years since I last hurt myself so… badly. But I've been moving, can't you see? It will make a scar, like the others you've seen, but it will be… here."

Bloodhound pauses a moment with their hand at his temple. Elliott is frozen as he feels the fabric run across his eyebrow, jumps down to his cheek, then ends its journey at his nose. When Bloodhound tilts their head at him again and retracts their hand, Elliott realizes he hasn't spoken for some time. Though concern threatens to overfill his heart, Bloodhound is still alive and kicking. They aren't hurt somewhere they would have shown symptoms of pain. He lets the knowledge that Bloodhound has been wounded before and knows what they're doing ease his worries. The little space left in his heart is where Elliott decides to put a smile.

"Well… I'll still - I'll still have sex with you if that's what you were unsure about," Elliott says with a wobbly grin. He nearly forces a laugh but can't seem to do it.

"A-ah," they reply, a little taken aback. Their hand curls into their chest. "Yes that's… what I was unsure of." Elliott almost chokes in shock. "I'm not healed yet, you see. It's difficult for me to really express myself. But I also… did wonder if you would want to wait for me to heal. Or if you wouldn't like the scar as much as the others."

Elliott takes a minute to process this. He shouldn't be surprised. When they first talked about all of this in the green house those months ago, he had blown up when they suggested he might have only wanted them because they looked nice. It's true he's exhausted from constantly being labeled as the rich pretty boy just looking for the next dumb pretty girl to pass his time with. He's got a head on him. Bloodhound knows he's not like the rumors more than anyone because of the simple fact that the two of them are still fanning their flame after all this time.

He takes a glance at Bloodhound's downturned helmet. Seeing them as anything but confident and proud is always a surprise. The last time Elliott had seen Bloodhound so tentative was in the green house. Neither of them had been in a situation like that before. When he thinks about it, the only reason they're worried he'll leave them is because they've probably never had someone in his position. No one who saw their face regularly enough to be any sort of surprised if they changed.

"You know I'm not like that," Elliott says at last. He scrunches his nose at the fact that he's even saying this. He doesn't have to remind them. "You know I still think you're attractive however you look…"

Bloodhound speaks quietly. "I'm aware."

A smile graces his face for the first time in these past moments. He keeps his eyes hopeful for them to understand he's being true. "Then we're okay," he breathes. 

"You will wait until I'm healed?" they ask carefully, like he might not know he agreed to that part. He chuckles with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, Hound." Elliott then blushes and scratches his neck nervously. "I mean, if it uh, if hurts you to have sex then I guess we - we don't have to have sex. But we don't have to… not see each other? If you - know what I mean…"

Bloodhound jolts a little. It probably shouldn't make him laugh but he's embarrassed about asking and embarrassed about being embarrassed about asking so he can't help it. Their shock is quickly replaced with what that hurried nodding can only be called as enthusiasm. "That can work. I think I'd… I'd like that too." Their head tilts cautiously as they lean in. "How is tomorrow?"

Elliott blinks. His grin suddenly widens and his cheeks turn hot in a blush. "Yeah! Tomorrow's good. Um, my place? Like my… work or my uh - place...?"

"Mine," they tell him instead. Like it's a fact. Elliott's heart beats faster. "My house."

-

Their house. It shouldn't feel foreign to Elliott considering how often he drops them off and how often they're in his own house, but on his way over, Elliott can't help but feel like he's trekking into completely new territory. It's his first time driving there all alone as well as in the day. He's uneasy to the point of overthinking.

Is he over dressed? Under dressed? Should he have brought some kind of housewarming baked good? Something for their bird? Will Artur even be there? Where should he park? At the curb in front of their home or farther down the street? Is he being followed? About five consecutive glances in each mirror tells Elliott he's not. At least so closely. By the time he reaches the house, he's so far in his head he's driving on autopilot, parking at the curb. Elliott pauses. It would be weird to start his car up again and drive down a couple minutes.

He takes a deep breath. It's fine. He's fine. In the minute he's been freaking out in the parked car, no one has driven by. Not being followed. It's okay. Elliott gathers his belongings and makes his way through the orange picket fence to cross the neatly trimmed yard. A concrete pathway takes him straight to the door with a view of the short green grass, large thick trees, rows of wildflowers against the house, and columns of vines along the walls. He's pretty sure ninety percent of the city's greenery is in this one lot. Elliott takes an embarrassing moment to smooth out his t-shirt to look nice before he knocks.

When the door opens, he forgets his manners about how to open his mouth and say words. Bloodhound stands in the doorway without a mask or their usual gear. He should recognize them immediately. He should see the pearl white hair, the chocolate spiced skin, the round of their nose, the fullness of their lips, the shine in their eyes, and know it's them. But in that first second, he doesn't. There's a pair of clear, pink, glossy scratches across the left side of their face that he really should've been prepared for.

The longest cut starts at their hairline near their temple, then travels at a near forty-five degree angle across their eyebrow, then continues just beneath their eye until it reaches the bridge of their nose. The second, wider one starts near the top of their cheek bone and follows their cheek until it's about level with their nose. It's wider than the scratch parallel to it likely because the skin of their cheek is much softer and easier to tear. Both are at least the thickness of a finger, the shortest at perhaps two at its worst. There's another cut Elliott wasn't aware of at their mouth. It's wide at the edge of and under their chin, then becomes a lot thinner when it reaches their bottom lip.

Each wound is nowhere near healed enough for a scar but traces of scabbing are present and the exposed skin is a glossy pink with faint specks of red. There's nothing that scares Elliott when looking at the scratches, so he knows Bloodhound is experienced in caring for their wounds.

"Hello."

Elliott blinks himself to. That definitely wasn't the first time they said the word. He blushes heavily in shame for staring and tries to find anything negative in their eyes. There's nothing but that familiar, simple indifference patiently waiting for Elliott to speak. "Uh, sorry, um. Afternoon, bud," he manages to say with a shy smile.

Bloodhound leans out to squint at the sky. They hum. "Though it's day, I like to think it's early evening."

"I like to think evening is night time, to be honest," he shares.

"Mm…" Bloodhound nods with a small smile as they turn away. "Please, come in."

"Ah, thanks."

When Elliott walks in, he's immediately blanketed by the warmth of a dozen candles and the flowery scent of the different plants he can see drying by the windows. The living room is lit purely by natural light from the windows and clusters of candles to give everything a warm glow. On the walls are tapestries, animal hides, hand drawn maps, odd arrangements of sticks tied together, shelves for books, hooks for weapons, and, of course, mounted animal heads of what he can only assume are their own kills. The floor is paneled with wood but is vastly covered in different spreads of patterned furs.

While Elliott breathes in the room, Bloodhound gestures to the couch near the center of the room that faces a red brick fireplace. "You may sit there or… look around. You seem surprised."

"Oh, uh, no. I just -" Elliott scratches his neck when he catches them raising an eyebrow. The unhurt one. "Your place is really nice. It's very you. Even the yard. I think you're like, the only homeowner in the city with actual grass."

Bloodhound takes a glance at their front door as if they would see the yard from there. "Yes… Well, thank you. I try to keep things alive despite my job." Elliott laughs. Their shoulders droop as if relieving a tension. He feels the same way.

"Oh, what's this?" Bloodhound says. They point to the cardboard box in Elliott's hand with interest.

He grins and holds it up for them with pride. "Beer! It's for you. Or us. I don't know how much you drink but I thought uh, might be nice, you know. To have it."

Bloodhound's eyes light up when they take the pack in their hands, turning it around to inspect the black and blue designs on the box. "How lovely. Yes, thank you for this offering. I only have liquor so this is wonderful," they tell him with a smile. Elliott shrugs, his face a bit hot. It's not cheap beer, but it's cheap for rich people beer. All that really matters is that it tastes good, and Elliott tried his best to pick one they might like. "I will keep it cold for now. Feel free to look around. I'll be in the kitchen just a minute longer."

"Yeah, no problem." He watches them slip away into a kitchen with rather modern appliances. As he looks back around the living room, he sees plainly how Bloodhound has always been somewhere between old fashioned yet up to date. There are handmade items everywhere but he does see a small television and piles of their tracking equipment for the Games.

"Oh, and Elliott." Bloodhound pops around the corner to furrow their eyebrows at him. "Please be careful."

He chuckles from the other side of the room. "I will be."

"Mm." They hum flatly, like they're teasing and don't believe him, then leave with a short nod.

He finds the shelves more full of collected items than actual books. There are rows dedicated to their metals from winning the Apex Games as well as awards for unknown hunting championships. He finds little clusters of bones and arrangements of skulls. He really hopes the human skull is just a decoration. The walls hang antlers, horns, and the head of what Elliott's become familiar with as a flyer. He wonders where they killed it. If they've hunted flyers before Elliott even knew they used to live on King's Canyon or if they snuck around to hunt when flocks returned to the arena.

Along the mantle are blades of varying sizes. Tiny daggers to hide in secret places, long blades he thinks to be just small swords, and an interestingly shaped hatchet that seems to glow red. Elliott hesitates before picking it up. It's not hanging anywhere for decoration or to be stored, it's just placed on the mantle. When he does take it in hand, the smooth black material amazes him. The entire weapon is carved from one stone with just a simple fabric weaved around the handle for grip, a pair of familiar charms hanging from the end and on the neck. At the corner, a raven's head is intricately carved with a red jewel as its eye. As he shifts the shining weapon in the candle light, he can't help but imagine the blade is glowing crimson as well.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Bloodhound comments beside him. There's a softness in their voice that matches the admiration Elliott was feeling. Now, he jumps and just feels like he's been caught.

"Uh, sorry. Yeah, it's really nice, I probably shouldn't've touched it," Elliott stumbles, face red in some embarrassment.

Bloodhound chuckles gently and pushes the weapon toward him when he offers it back. "It's alright. I simply didn't want to startle you and have you hurt yourself. It's a tool. Meant to be handled and passed down for any use needed."

Elliott hums to himself, a habit he definitely picked up from them. He lets a finger trail near the blade where it seems to get impossibly sharp. Bloodhound slightly tenses beside him but doesn't stop him. "So you use it?" he asks. "I've never seen it before."

They nod. "I like to use it to hunt. Animals, not people. The Games don't let me bring my own weapons so you don't see me practice with it."

"That makes sense," he says. He lifts it to inspect the charm tied to the handle and notice it's nearly the same as the ones on their helmets. Also along the handle is a line of carved symbols he recognizes as the language on their body. The language written in sticks on their walls. "Did you bring it for this latest hunt? It's really - really beautiful. I don't think I could get myself to use it."

"I often find myself thinking the same thing, so no, I didn't take this one with me. It's an heirloom, and I am certain it would have been destroyed with this beast."

He turns to them. Their eyes are looking in the cup he now notices. Steam rises from the murky liquid over their exposed face, their shining wounds, their glistening eyes. They're blowing on the drink silently but notices his eyes and meets them. Elliott does his best to make sure he isn't showing anything sad. They blink at him anyway. "Some beast, huh?" he ends up saying.

They hum and blow on the cup again. Then they flick their eyes up to his once more and offer the drink to him with a nod. "Here. Would you like to try some?" they ask calmly. "I have enough for the both of us, though it can be an acquired taste. It helps the immune system and it's also drunk for leisure."

Elliott's eyes widen a bit, intrigued. He puts the weapon back where he found it to take the drink. Bloodhound watches him with a mostly unreadable, but rather pleased expression as he drinks. It tastes like leaves, he finds quickly. But there's a nuttiness that overwhelms that dirt taste followed by an interesting snap of something spicy. He jolts in shock and Bloodhound smiles.

"That's kinda wild," he says. He looks in the cup as if something might jump out at him. "It's good though. I've never tried anything like it."

"Ah, that's good to hear," Bloodhound tells him, obviously pleased with his reaction. "You may have that one. I'll get another for myself. And please, sit." They gesture to their couch as they walk back to the kitchen with the same small smile, like they're just happy he's here. "I can tell you about the hunt. Your curiosity is not as subtle as you think."

Elliott blushes a bit and scratches his neck but Bloodhound leaves before he can apologize. He sighs, making himself comfortable on their surprisingly normal couch. It's true, he's curious about how they got their scratches and why this animal was any different than the others. They're not afraid to show their scars, but he's never asked Bloodhound how they had got any of them and they were hesitant to tell him about the new wounds in the first place, so he didn't want to pry.

He takes a sip of the drink, enjoying the warmth surrounding him even in the summer as he closes his eyes. He opens them to find Bloodhound seating themself at the other end with their own cup. They're wearing a plain black shirt Elliott has never seen before. The two of them usually dress up for each other with fitted clothes and decorative fabric. But this shirt is a bit oversized and their pants are just regular jeans like Elliott's. Though he's never seen them in such casual clothes before, it feels strikingly ordinary and comfortable to be here with them.

They pass the better part of an hour talking about the hunt. Well, Bloodhound does most of the talking while Elliott mainly sits there and cringes in bewilderment. They tell him about its size, with the length of nearly three men but barely reaching the height of one. It had six strong legs with three thick claws on each foot. The claws were mainly used for digging, they tell him, but that didn't stop it from swiping with a yowl when they had made it bleed. It had a heavy horn that was its true weapon to fight. When Bloodhound was knocked to the ground, they were too alarmed at being scratched to do anything more than cover their face and brace for its charge. They had gotten its tail and the wound made it unsteady, so the hit to their chin wasn't enough to break bone like it should have.

Elliott shivers at the idea of his friend breaking their jaw out there all alone. He asks why they went out for it in the first place and their eyes sparkle. "Its stomach!" they say eagerly. "The creature is known to be able to swallow anything without leaving a single trace. Guns, traps, poison, and swords simply disappear."

They say they lost a few arrows and a throwing knife between its hundreds of teeth, so they are sure any slip up would have cost them their heirloom easily. As terrifying as the beast sounds, Bloodhound tells Elliott its skin was fairly soft and effortless to break, that is - if one could catch it, or even find it in the first place. It was covered in small reflective scales that could camouflage it to any backdrop if it wanted. That too was a reason Bloodhound went after it, so they could have the beautiful hide for themself.

"I rarely hunt for sport," they tell him with a wave of their hand as if to dispel any concerns. "There's nothing other than the scales that I truly wanted. I kept the meat and the bones for other uses of course, but I didn't take the stomach for myself. That I traded for a selection of equipment and items I had been wanting for some time. He also gave me raven's blood, which was a cruel gift of no charge, but welcomed. It's not uncommon to use raven's blood to bless weapons before war, but I've never been able to go after a bird like Artur."

Elliott frowns and squints at them. "Who would want the stomach? And also happens to have blood of a raven?"

"That, Elliott, is a secret between traders," they say. He shrugs it off. People will hunt and trade as long as it's legal, and even when it's illegal. Elliott trusts Bloodhound though. They've never been someone to break a law for their own selfishness.

After hearing about how Bloodhound had ended up with the wounds that worried Elliott a lot more than they should have, he feels better thinking they're just another scratch from a hunt. They know what they're doing and Elliott understands that better now. Bloodhound refills their own cup of the same murky liquid while Elliott declines with a smile. Though he enjoyed it, it's definitely a drink he needs to warm up to. They just laugh with a nod of their head.

Elliott dares to ask about the weapon Bloodhound said was an heirloom. They tell him about it without hesitation. It belonged to their uncle, then passed down to themself when he died. As he hears about the strong man that seemed to single handedly raise them, Elliott is reminded of his own family. He shares similar stories about his mother teaching him family recipes and how she had shared old photos of the family business, telling him he didn't have to do anything exactly the same way if he didn't want to. It's about intent and heart and smiles from the people you share with. Bloodhound listens to him carefully, nodding to encourage and commenting to bounce back.

The two of them pass the evening like this. When they've exhausted their conversation about family, Elliott jumps back to their mutual interest in fighting. He expresses his desire to learn how to use knives and other close combat weapons. Bloodhound eagerly tells him they would be glad to teach him sometime. Then they both talk about work and the Games. They think about what it might be like to move to a new arena. It's a rumor among the Legends, but nothing's been seriously commented on.

When it gets later, the two split the bill for some delivery. They joke to each other about who's more famous and who should risk meeting the delivery person. Eventually they just send special instructions and receive the food without incident. Hours pass with card games, food, and a certain naughty raven who likes to steal the cards to build his own little tower. It takes some time, but as Bloodhound encourages Artur to land on Elliott, he ends up catching a sudden wince on their face when they laugh at Artur placing cards on Elliott's arms instead. Bloodhound catches his worried expression before he can force it away. They shake their head at Elliott's shy, wobbly features and touches beneath his chin with a swift flick.

"You would wince too if you had not smiled so much in months," they tell him gently. Elliott blushes at the touch and the mess of emotions in his chest. It's the first they've touched since he's been here. He's also aware he was the cause of their pain just then, and it's because he's made them smile too much. They tilt their head with a quirk of their lips. "I invited you here to enjoy yourself. Do not fret. If it makes you feel better, think I'm in pain because my wounds are still open and I'm only sensitive, not because you're having me move my features so often."

Elliott winces himself as alarm suddenly fills his entire being. "That does not make me feel any better," he tells them hotly. Bloodhound just hums and offers their arm for Artur to land on. "If anything, I think uh, it makes me feel worse? I don't know why you had to put it that way. Like, you're hurting either way and that's kind of concerning because--"

Bloodhound cuts him off with a laugh. It's light and cheery and everything this evening has been rolled into one unique sound. He stops and realizes he really has never heard them laugh this much. They're usually so serious and focused on something else to really involve themself in whatever fun the others are having. He's become used to the occasional chuckle, familiarized himself with their usual small smile, and now gets to experience a night where they have nothing better to do than laugh and grin.

"That's the point, you see? It's out of your control. Our control," they tell him. Kind eyes and a steady hand reach out to him with Artur as the offering. He notices the skinny red marks on their arms where the bird shuffles on its feet. It's identical to the razor thin scars on their shoulders and both forearms. Bloodhound tilts their head, their lips pulled up gently at the edges. "So don't worry, and just enjoy yourself."

He let's a shy grin show on his face as he releases a small breath and gives his hand out to pet the bird. Artur croaks and fluffs his neck until his feathers are on end. Elliott thinks he's upset him until he notices the doting look on Bloodhound's face and how Artur shivers again when they pet him the same way. Throughout the ten minutes they tried to let Artur warm up to Elliott and Elliott to Artur, the bird ends up only hopping on his arm once with an odd chirp before flapping off to build with the brightly colored cards.

It isn't until much later, after Elliott has gone home and decides to take a hot shower to try to mimic the warmth of their home, that he finds the tiny, paper thin breaks in his skin where Artur had jumped. Light scratches surround the broken skin but he suspects the marks will be gone in a day. Elliott washes them gently, feeling the subtle sting and wondering how Bloodhound must feel. They have to clean and dress and care for their wounds all by themself even while dealing with events they can't control and people who don't understand. They hid their wounds and spoke to others as if they weren't in pain for weeks. Still, they invited Elliott over knowing they would have to stress their features to talk with him. They invited him over knowing he could make them laugh.

-

He has fun. They both have fun. For a while, it's really just… nice. Aside from the Apex Games they're participating in and the training sessions they help each other through and the meetings everyone has to show up for, Bloodhound and Elliott spend some actual time together. Their days are usually occupied by work of all sorts.

Elliott trains his body to keep up in the Games, studies his gear to either make touch ups or simply learn new things, and manages the bar when he can. Though he's the boss, Mirage is more of the face of the bar. He started it but he pays someone to really keep things running. It's not much of his business but Elliott can gather ideas of what Bloodhound does on their spare time. They like to practice with different types of weapons, take some time to honor their gods, and definitely pour over a project for their wardrobe or tracking equipment. He knows what they enjoy because lately, their evenings have started to collide and the two of them end up talking about everything and anything.

It's often at Bloodhound's house where Elliott quickly skips up the steps and slips inside so no one gets too good of a look at either of their recurring faces. Where the two play cards or dominoes or other games Bloodhound shares from their village. Where they may open some beers or toss around a few knives and axes just to play around with, sometimes to really learn something. Elliott's house is where Bloodhound can more safely walk into wearing a familiar mask without causing suspicion. They're colleagues, but they're also friends. At Elliott's, Bloodhound can take off their mask and watch cooking shows with him, both of them taking notes or pausing to share an alternative recipe. Either way, the two always end up ordering something in while they drink and talk about whatever interests them.

At some point, Bloodhound invites Elliott out to a bar. They ask carefully, deliberately, and with a twist in their tone that makes his eyes light up. Elliott has watched their wounds heal, felt second hand pain when they moved wrong enough to make themself bleed or wince, but has never asked when they might be ready to try to spend an entire night thinking about if both of them are feeling good and void of all pain. When they lean up against the wall to wait their turn to be scanned and ask Elliott if he's busy over the weekend, he can't help but feel a dazing buzz throughout his body and tell them he's free anytime they want him to be.

Their night is not much different than before Bloodhound had gotten hurt. Elliott definitely notices the death glares they give other patrons who stare at the scarring skin across their brown features. He also notices a sudden increase in people who stare at him too. "What a sight you must be," they whisper in his ear in the corner of the bar.

Elliott tries to pretend he doesn't accidentally make eye contact with people who definitely recognize him as he presses himself against someone covered in thick scars and sporadic ink. Someone the media would say doesn't fit Mirage's type. He wonders if someone has finally started to connect him to this person he meets with. If now that they're more noticable, people will start to put together the pieces of Mirage's new special someone. Eventually, he turns his eyes down, closes them, then kisses Bloodhound to distract himself. Besides the confused and overwhelming stares to the both of them at the bar, Bloodhound and Elliott's night goes satisfying well.

They've missed each other, and they know it. Whether it's the sexual desires that had been constantly indulged, suddenly put on standby, then finally satisfied, or the simple surrender of each other's body after a long period of worry and work, or something else entirely. Whatever it is, it burns in Elliott's belly like adding oil to a flame. It makes him speak louder, hold them tighter, and kiss them harder. They respond in kind, with now familiar grins, teasing nips, and breathtaking kisses.

After Bloodhound had first asked if they could spend the night together, the two of them slip back into their usual routine. There are slight changes, of course. Bloodhound's own bedroom is now on the table and is frequently used for the same naughty acts Elliott's is. They have to be faster where they meet up now to keep eyes from recognizing Mirage then associating him with Bloodhound. Just once, they abandon the middleman and Bloodhound invites Elliott over to their home to have sex rather than just play cards or start with at the bar first. It's not the same. There's a stillness that seems to hang in the air despite them doing what they've always done. There's something missing that Elliott tries to blame on the lack of bustle from the bar. The sex is quiet. More intimate in a way that just feels like their movements are stripped down to the plainest they could be. It's colder, almost empty, and wholly confusing. It has the both of them suddenly blushing in the morning and agreeing to risk a meet at the bar next time. The next of their nights are far more pleasurable.

Their evenings spent laughing and eating and throwing around cards or knives for fun seem to drift away. Elliott finds himself thinking of it often, though. On lonely nights when it's raining, he thinks of how Bloodhound had shown him the different gods they look up to. During Games when he runs for his synthetic little life, he remembers the stories of the beast that had torn their skin too easily. When he's just sitting down to take a breath after a hard workout, he finds his mind wandering to the open lips that gasp in pleasure and glistening teeth that bare with joy and the clear laughter that overcomes them when they find something especially amusing. Elliott sighs each time. He wants more than their body against his.

-

"Hey, Hound. How's your face?" Elliott asks, plopping himself on the cushion beside them. He ends up bouncing the couch a bit before noticing the jerking way Bloodhound tenses their hands. He apologizes quietly for interrupting their sewing.

Bloodhound glances at him a second to make sure he's still before going back to stringing the leather together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean your face. How's it healing and stuff?"

They look at him, then take a minute to survey the room. Elliott already checked though, no one is around. He happened to find Bloodhound alone in the commonroom of the Legend Tower on his way up to tinker with random stuff in his flat. "Oh," they say casually, going back to their sewing. "It's healing well. As you should know considering you saw it no more than a week ago."

Elliott pulls an uneasy face and tries to shrug it off. "Yeah, but I don't actually ask how it like, feels, you know? If it still hurts or if it's at its last stages or uh, something."

They hum. "I see. I'm nearly healed. I do feel sore often but as for appearances, this is what it will stay like."

"Sounds good. Lucky for you I'm a sucker for marks," he chuckles to himself.

"I've noticed," they tease gently with a smile. Elliott watches in silence for a moment as Bloodhound pulls at their needle and thread and cuts the excess off with a pair of scissors. "Would you like to see?"

He frowns curiously when they burn the end of the thread with a unique purple flame to hold it in place. "Your thing?" he wonders.

"My face." Bloodhound fits the leather over their hand and he notices it's only a cover for their palm. That doesn't wipe the confusion from his face.

Elliott blinks a few times when Bloodhound doesn't repeat themself. "I mean, yeah? Like all the time, really. But you're - you're always in public and I get to when we uh, hang out and do things anyway. I was just saying I like scars and um, stuff."

"I know you do," they tell him calmly. "That's why I asked."

He startles, "Now?"

They nod swiftly and stand. Dumbly, he watches as they gather their tools in their pocket before they head off to the other side of the room. Elliott stumbles to follow them, something thrilling swirling in his chest. They stop mechanically at a certain spot along the wall near the entrance to a supply closet. Their back is to the wall and Elliott is just a step away.

"Here is an odd blind spot I noticed. It's small, but it's covered. I also know you are careful," they say. Their voice is slow, like their head as it tilts in a way Elliott knows means they're admiring him.

He nods once to assure them. "I'm always careful, Hound." He is. Whenever he wants to flirt, though he hasn't in some time, he's made sure it was where only Bloodhound had his attention. It feels like months since Bloodhound last teased him in public, and it's probably true. He's all for seeing them without their mask, but he'll also do anything to keep their privacy secure.

"Follow my hand, and do as I say," Bloodhound tells him quietly, near whispering.

Elliott's eyebrows rise slightly. His hand is taken palm up by Bloodhound's and guided to their face. He lets their intertwined fingers trail beneath their mouthpiece to touch under their chin.

"It's smooth here, you see? Now try to find a small crease. A rectangle to place two fingers inside." His fingers tingle with anticipation. Bloodhound follows his hands to make sure he stays on course, but he feels the thin shape easily and places two fingers where he thinks is its middle.

"Good. Now I want you to press up, pull back, then down. It's difficult to say. You will feel it. Understand?" Elliott hums, eyes trained on the scratched red paint from their mouthpiece where it shows silver as if he'd be able to see through it if he thought hard enough. He does as they say. Press up into their mask until he feels resistance, curl his fingers toward himself in the open space provided, then pull down. A click. At both sides, to the bridge of the nose and the bottom of their chin, their mouthpiece comes loose until all of the metal, straps, and tubing is held in the palm of his hand.

Elliott stops there. He's overwhelmed. Lately, there's nothing more that he wants than to see their uncovered face. Whether it be in the safety of their homes or hiding in plain sight in a crowd, Elliott seems to yearn for their round eyes that offer a hundred emotions and their tentative mouth that fills him with a million more with a simple smile or laugh. But there's a sense of security to their masks. There's an unshakable presence that screams nothing but confidence and familiarity that Elliott has found a friend in for years. That mask is what they show everyone, but their face is what they'll only truly show Elliott.

Bloodhound waits in silence despite Elliott seeming to be frozen in place. What shows on his face must not be alarming enough to ask for his attention. He finally lets himself feel honored to be in this position, and pull down on their mask to let it fall from place. Beneath the lenses of their dirty goggles is the marked skin of the Bloodhound he's come to know. Their dark skin is just as enticing as the first day he saw it. Now, there are wide, pale tears at their chin, along their cheekbone, and beside their nose. Thinking back to when he first saw their wounds, he does see how much they've improved.

As much as he enjoys looking at their marks, nothing quite captures his attention as their mouth. It's always been those plump, dark lips that get him started. When he first saw them part to reveal sharp golden fangs to when he sees them now, placed in an even, indifferent line, Elliott always ends up in tangles of thoughts he can't seem to unravel. Letting his eyes fall shut, Elliott tips his head forward until his forehead meets the slope of their worn helmet.

A shaky breath leaves his lips in a sigh he didn't know he was holding. Bloodhound remains still. "God, you're…" Elliott's heart beats faster and his face turns hot from indistinguishable flames of vulnerability and embarrassment. "You're so good. You're so hot. So pretty, so - so handsome."

They're silent a moment, before speaking in an even tone. "You are not looking at me," they say. It's low, clearer than a whisper but softer than any other words they've spoken. Most notably, it's calm, nearly dull.

"I'm - I'm looking. I see you. I've seen you. I know you." Elliott hardly registers his voice getting quieter at every sound until he's left holding their mask in his hand and breathing slowly pressed against their helmet.

What feels like an hour may just be minute. Eventually, Bloodhound touches the back of his hand to guide their mouthpiece back into place. The soft click brings Elliott back to reality. He nearly startles back, face pulled in what he's sure is a clear expression of his shame.

"I'm sorry you had to un-uncover yourself for me," he blurts out. "I really - I really do - I like to see you, but you don't have to actually do that. For me. I'm okay with the way we - the way we do it. I can wait to see you, you know. Until we're both… going out - out to be with each other like that."

Bloodhound stares at him a second, then looks around the room slowly. "There is no one here," they say calmly. Their voice has the same dull tone that makes his stomach curl with anxiety.

"I know but uh, we're still out here," Elliott tries to explain. He isn't sure what he's trying to cover up anyway. "There are still cameras that know we're in the - in the blind spot. And Octavio, he - he thinks I got a girlfriend. If he sees me close to you he'll jump to all sorts of conclusions, you know."

Again, they take their time to answer. It doesn't help that Elliott's adrenaline is running out. "Yes, well… Come over tonight?" they ask him suddenly.

"H-huh?" Elliott thinks he might have heard them wrong considering they still haven't moved for the past few minutes.

"Tonight. At my house. I'm asking if you would like to come."

"Oh, uh, yeah sure," he agrees. He takes a step back to distance himself from the whole mouthpiece situation and scratches his neck. "Do you want me to bring beer or something? Unless you already got some of that liquor still. Just 'cause last time it was a bit different without starting at the ba--"

"No. Just bring yourself," they cut him off. Elliott pauses, shuts his mouth, and nods. He gets a sharp nod in return before Bloodhound presses him back gently to head for the elevator. As he watches them go, he wonders what he's doing with himself.

-

It takes Elliott ten minutes standing in the middle of his room to figure out they might not have asked him to come over for sex. He's trying to figure out what to wear, or if he should even change from his work clothes. If the two of them still hung out just for food and games, he would easily show up in the clothes covered in grease just like they would come by in gear torn from wear. If they wanted to do something more, he would show up to the bar in something sexy and tight and revealing. They tried to hook up at Bloodhound's home like that and it just didn't work. Or maybe it was only Elliott who felt that way.

Eventually, he goes for a comfortable floral t-shirt he can tuck in to make himself feel a little more classy. He doesn't know what they really want from him, but he wants to look nice and do whatever they ask. When Elliott makes it to their house, it's dark with the young night and he has to rely on memory not to step into the wildflowers that recently appeared in their pathway. Bloodhound opens the door a bit in similar attire, a casual plaid button up rolled to their elbows. Elliott releases a breath when he sees that dark, scarred face, his grin relieved and simply happy to see them.

Bloodhound tilts their head, glances behind him, and lets him slip through their small opening. Instant warmth overcomes him when Elliott follows them inside, and his worries from earlier subside. "Come, you wanted to drink, right? I do still have liquor," they tell him over their shoulder.

Elliott trails behind them to the kitchen. It's modern, yet cozy. Like a winter cabin's kitchen. He's never seen them actually cook, but they've been here to sort through delivery bags and try Bloodhound's assortment of drinks. He watches them line them up now, then look up at him expectantly.

"Did you want any?" They ask with a slight lean in.

His face turns hot, suddenly uneasy all over again. He doesn't know if they're offering him a drink because he said the sex might be better than that one time or if they're offering just because they'll be hanging around for a while. But they don't do that anymore. It's obvious he's taking too long to answer by the growing silent tension between them, Elliott's face twisted in indecision and Bloodhound's falling in what looks a lot like sadness.

"You don't want to drink, do you," they state simply, their voice low and their eyes focused on his.

He sighs in distress and looks at the table. "No, I don't want to drink, Hound."

"That's alright. I can put them back." They turn away to do as they say gently.

"What am I even doing here?" Elliott blurts out. His mouth is pressed in a wobbly line as he watches them hesitate to place a glass down. They continue quietly. "Did you wanna fuck? Is that it? Or did you wanna chill like when your face hurt a little too much? Even then you let me make you laugh like I'm just there to amuse you."

Bloodhound closes their cabinet and finally faces him with a firm frown. Their eyes are narrowed, their lips are shut tight, and they're clearly upset and confused. It's similar to the look they gave him after their first night together when Elliott called them that strange nickname and they were quickly offended. All at once Elliott realizes he's raised his voice. All at once he realizes these pent up feelings he hasn't been able to figure out are tangling and spilling out as anger.

"Is that what you think of me?" Bloodhound responds evenly. They tilt their head to regard him more sternly. "Do you think I only show you myself to have sex? Do you think I keep you around to have _Mirage_ all for myself?"

"I don't know _what_ you want," he sneers. "All I know is you only show me your face when you wanna fuck or when you're looking for my pity because of your own - your own recklessness."

"Do not accuse me of being so shallow! That is not something I will hear from someone like you." His words have definitely made them angry now, and he knows he shouldn't do that. Bloodhound is supposed to be one of the most dangerous people in the Frontier. Despite even that, everything they've grown between them could fall apart. "I am not the one who wins for the glory. I am not the one who boasts about money and property. The one who feels proud to deceive for gain. The one who parades in front of the media for having an insatiable libido."

Elliott scoffs, "You wanna talk insatiable? Who do you think I'm going to when that libido strikes? You used to go out maybe once a year, now you're fucking me close to every week! You're not so sinless either. You touched me all dirty before you told me who you were because you wanted to use your face to get into my pants."

They huff hotly and step back. There's that flicker in their eyes like they don't recognize him. "You are wrong," they growl. Though Elliott is shouting and scowling and he can see hurt and anger rolling out of their every feature, they're careful with their own words. "You are yelling just to yell and you don't seem to know why you're arguing. You're confused."

"Don't tell me what I'm feeling!" he snaps. "You started this, you know. I don't even know why I'm here. I don't even know what we're doing. I don't even - I don't - I don't even know what we are!"

If Bloodhound responds, Elliott doesn't notice. His eyes are screwed shut and his hands are at his hair. He can hear his heartbeat drumming in his ears. He can feel his throat constricting with a mixture of guilt and anger. They're right, he's so confused. About what he's been wanting, why they continue to meet up, why they stopped hanging out, why he couldn't kiss them in that blind spot, and why he exploded on them now. It takes more than a minute of thundering silence to even out his own breathing. He's an adult. They both are. He shouldn't make them both start shouting.

By the time he stretches his fingers from where they were gripping at the countertop and he peels open his eyes that seem to have gathered an embarrassing dampness, Bloodhound has already gone across the room to face the stove quietly. Their back is to him, but he can see how their toned muscles are tense as they cross their arms.

"What are you -" Elliott clears his throat to make sure his tone doesn't have a trace of anything remotely hurtful. "What are doing…?"

They don't respond. Bloodhound always responds, so Elliott's heart does a spaz in regret to know he's pushed them too far. He steps up to them, awkwardly hesitating with each step wondering how he should deal with his consequences. There's a cabinet beside the stove that Elliott leans a shoulder on. He sees the pot of steaming liquid Bloodhound is staring daggers at and can't help but feel worse knowing they'll share whatever concoction they're making with him.

"Hound - I'm… I'm so fucking sorry," he tells them near a whisper. They're both the same height but he has to curl down a bit to see their hard scowl. His voice nearly breaks. "I shouldn't've yelled at you. You don't - you don't deserve this. All this."

"You said very hurtful things," they say lowly, still staring at the water turning brown.

Elliott winces and his shoulders droop further. "I - I know. I'm so - I shouldn't have. I didn't mean any of it. I know you've never wanted to use me for - for sex or anything. Or even for pity when you got injured. I'm just… I was - uh, am. Confused. I don't know why I yelled. I'm sorry."

"You've been confused for a long time, I think," they say. Their arms fall from their crossed position if only to stir the liquid. "I think that's why you… broke."

He shrugs tiredly. "Yeah, I - I think so. I think I might've been for a while." Bloodhound reaches to tap a drop of clear liquid into the pot and he watches it spread orange. "Maybe since you… since you got hurt. We've been different since then."

Their head tilts gently to the side, their loose white hair falling off their broad shoulders like a waterfall. "Ah… I know what you mean… I think we have been, too." He can see their scowl drift away to be replaced by exhaustion and sadness when they glance up at him between stirring. Their tone becomes soft. "I'm sorry too, Elliott. I didn't mean what I said. I know you don't win for the fame and glory. I know you're not… shallow..."

Elliott keeps his head down as they turn off the heat to prepare the cups and a pot. The now dusty orange liquid is poured into the pot where it will cool down. Bloodhound sighs heavily. They turn to him with worried eyes and a small frown. "It's because you don't know what we are, is it?"

He shuffles himself over to stand in front of them. "Yeah…" he admits at last. To himself and to them for the second time. "I'm sorry to make you think about it in such an awful way. I could've just… just - done this better."

Bloodhound nods slowly in agreement. They step themself closer and he notices their hands hesitate to come up to touch him. He doesn't move, just lets them place those strong hands on his waist. They've both been looking down in shame but he finally tips his head up when Bloodhound leans in close, almost like they're going to kiss him. They don't. There's still space between their lips where Elliott hasn't tried to close in either. He shuts his eyes and presses his forehead against theirs gently, feeling their hands trail up his chest, back down to his sides, then grab just a bit tighter.

"Do you want to kiss me?" he asks with his eyes still closed. They remain still as he brings a hand up to run his fingers through their hair.

"No," they tell him in a whisper.

Elliott finally closes the distance, but only to press a hand to their back and turn his face into their neck. "I don't wanna kiss you either," he mumbles shyly.

Bloodhound sighs comfortably at this. They shift to hold him more tightly. To hug him more intimately. Elliott helps them without missing a beat until they're both pressed close and he can feel their chest rising and falling against his. When Bloodhound had shown him how to remove their mouthpiece, they were offering their mouth for him to kiss. He couldn't for an overwhelming amount of reasons. It was the first time they removed their gear in a place they would definitely be recognized. Even as someone adamant about privacy, they risked it all for a moment just for him. Elliott remembers they had told him that now with him, there are two souls on this planet who know Bloodhound both with and without their mask. He tried, but couldn't make himself feel worthy enough to recognize them then just for his own kiss.

"What do you want, Elliott?" Bloodhound hums beside his ear.

His eyes are shut tight, hoping the warm press of their body will never leave him cold and lonely again. He thought he wanted more than just their body against his. He thought that's why their night without going to the bar was so quiet. It was cold and confusing because with the bar, came risk. It was thrilling to hide in plain sight, to dance almost too naughty in a crowd, to drink and make out as people who just want to take someone home. Without all that bustle, they're just Elliott and Bloodhound doing something they probably shouldn't and feeling a little guilty it's all so selfish. When they first began, it might have been different. But after spending so much friendly time with Bloodhound without their mask, Elliott knows there can be more to them than just making out in a loud room and pushing each other against the walls. It was empty because they both knew without all the running around with secret identities, they could have something hotter between them. Something more passionate than just two bodies together.

"I want you…" Elliott admits. He pulls back to look them in the eye and be sure they know he means it. Bloodhound watches him with big round eyes, no doubt seeing his hope and pleadings.

"You have me," they tell him quietly, looking at him with their familiar unvarying expression.

Elliott huffs lightly. He ends up pulling away until just their hands are together between them. "No, Hound, I - I want you in a different way. I want - I want to be able to kiss you not only when were having sex. I don't just want to only see you if we're having sex.. I want… more. Like when you were hurt and we just… chilled. That but I wanna stay over. E-even in bed, I wanna… I wanna hold you. I want you."

Their hands are at his face now. Their features so fixed but those eyes so gentle looking into his and feeling every word he says. The corner of his mouth pulls up in a hopeful half smile. "I know," they say. They lean forward to give him a brief kiss at the corner of his cheek. He startles, and becomes excited when they smile wide afterward. "I know because I… I'd like that too. Elliott I want… to be your partner. Would you like to be mine?"

His eyes widen slowly. "Like - like your boyfriend, right?" he quickly clarifies.

Bloodhound chuckles faintly, their eyes smiling and their teeth shining at last. "Yes, my boyfriend. I wouldn't be your boyfriend. But I could be your partner."

"Partner in life," he states with a swift nod and a new grin. He tightens his hold on their hands eagerly. "We've gotta em-emphasize that. That we're not just teammates or - or chilling buddies, we're - we're dating. We're gonna date."

"Yes." Bloodhound regards him with a sparkle in their eye. Like they're trying to memorize his every feature, from the tilt of his smile to the curls that fall into his eyes. "We're gonna date…"

Elliott is doing his very best to contain his joy right now. He had been so nervous if they really knew what he meant when he was trying to explain what he wanted. He's had boyfriends and girlfriends before, but he didn't know if Bloodhound understood just how close the two of them were to having that kind of relationship. They had never cuddled after sex, kissed just to kiss, nor touched just for company. He hardly knows anything about Bloodhound's own dating life, so he didn't even know if they wanted to spend so much time working up more trust with him to be a partner in his life. They agreed to him so easily, Elliott thinks they might've wanted this just as much as he does.

The end of an hour finds Elliott and Bloodhound curled up on their couch in front of a growing fire. They had put out all their other candles so it wouldn't get too hot because Elliott had mentioned he thought their house would be lovely in the winter. Bloodhound didn't wait to show him the blazing fire, pull him against their chest, and cover them both with thin quilts. His head rises and falls with each of their breaths. Their arms are wrapped tight around his waist to keep him close. Their legs are weaved together so neither of them fall to the floor. It's still summer, but as the large fire crackles and dances and twists, Elliott can't help but never want to leave this wonderful warmth that encompasses him.

-

"Can I kiss you?" Elliott asks on a whim. He's resting his cheek against the palm of his hand, elbow supporting him on the metal ground. The both of them are on their stomachs and are supposed to be scouting for any sort of wildlife. But they're in the newly introduced Capital City of World's Edge and there's not a single living thing in sight. It's quiet on top the construction site they're laying on. So quiet, Elliott quickly got bored.

"Mm? Oh, ah. No," Bloodhound tells him with no more than a casual glance. They're being dutiful, laying there steadily, sniper curled into their shoulder to peer through while Elliott's is forgotten and teetering on the edge of the support beam. "Not with this mask. Only that other one."

Elliott pouts. They don't see it, so he huffs dramatically. A faint chuckle can be heard from Bloodhound but they continue to look through their scope. He hums thoughtfully. "I mean like - can I kiss you. You know, not like if I physically can but like if you'll let me."

They startle and finally whip their head to look at his friendly, smiling face. His eyes are near closed at the slight drama he's putting in his joyful smile. "Right now?" they ask. "We are working, Mirage."

He laughs. "Yeah right now, I'm bored!"

"Hm. Well, I guess you may," they give him.

Elliott wastes no time in waving Bloodhound's gun away with a clatter and pulling them up towards him so he can press his lips square on the blood red mouthpiece. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a loud, "Muah!"

He can hear the clear laughter of Bloodhound's unique voice even through all the layers. Their hands come up to guide Elliott by the waist out of his awkward position leaning into them sideways. "You are obnoxious," they say, a lightness in their tone.

He chuckles heartily too before rolling his eyes. "Fine then. Here." With Bloodhound's help, Elliott crawls over them until they're laying back and he's got his knees intertwined with theirs, one hand on the ground beside their head, and one hand guiding their face to his. Elliott's eyes flutter close while he takes his time to press his lips to their mouthpiece at every slope. Each angle and dip is gently kissed like he's exploring the mask through touch alone. Bloodhound tilts their head to follow his hand silently as they trail their hands up his sides.

After a few moments, Bloodhound pushes and pulls at Elliott's waist to get him to come to the metal ground. He grins arrogantly when he realizes it's just so let Bloodhound roll them over so they can be the one hovering above him instead. Even with that static red mask, Elliott knows they're grinning the same way. He pulls them down by their collar to kiss them again.

"Uh, hey, Mirage! Bloodhound!" Wraith's voice comes in sharply through the earpiece.

Elliott sighs into the cool mask at her interruption. He frowns briefly before saying, "Busy!" and quickly stamping as many kisses as he possibly can all over Bloodhound's helmet. It's annoying and he knows it but he can hear their thoughtful hum in pleasure as they sit there to receive it.

"'Ey, you know your mic's are on the team com line, right?" Gibraltar asks carefully. Elliott pauses. Bloodhound tilts their head to the side.

"Uh. Imma be honest and say nope," Elliott says as even as he can while blood rushes to his cheeks. "All you guys are on here?"

An awkward rounding of general agreement comes from each Legend. Each ranging somewhere between mild disgust to overall disappointment. As the discomfort and embarrassment of realizing everyone heard their romantic little moment chills Elliott to his spine, he does take a moment to analyze Bloodhound. They haven't said anything in the past minute but they haven't moved either, just stared down at Elliot with that motionless mask.

Silently, Elliott furrows his eyebrows at them and mouths, "Did you know?" Their head shakes rapidly in response. He frowns. Then mouths, "Do you care?" Slower this time, Bloodhound shakes their head no. A happy smile grows on Elliott's face as bliss swirls up inside him. "Me neither."

"Are you two seriously sucking face on the job?!" Bangalore butts in when they haven't responded yet. She's obviously annoyed and most likely angry but Elliott can't seem to care. Not with the blood warming his body at the giddy thought of being able to kiss them freely now.

"Maybe," Elliott replies slyly. He leans up to peck their mouthpiece again. "Kinda." Bloodhound hums satisfyingly. If he can hear it, the others can hear it. A wave of theatrical disgust sounds from the other side of the line while Elliott continues to paint their red mask with invisible smooches. Unbothered, Bloodhound leans close to allow him and rest a gloved hand over his chest.

"Ewww! I can see them!" Octane yells out with a cackle. "It's so awful! Crypto, look, look!"

"No," he responds sharply.

First, there's a whistle through the air, a bullet piercing through the wind. Then, it collides directly with the side of Bloodhound's helmet in the blink of an eye. Elliott's eyes weren't exactly open to begin with but he definitely heard, as well as felt, the bullet smack into their head with a rattling shing. On reflex, he loosens his grip on their collar and Bloodhound is knocked off the side of the metal platform in the same second.

"Hahaha! Nailed 'em!" Octane sings.

"Ah." Bloodhound comments, surprised. Elliott scrambles near the edge of the construction site to see if they're okay. They're at the bottom, covered in dirt and dust, but look up at him through the orange beams with a wave. "I'm alright."

Elliott nods, then whips his head to where the bullet had come from. He can't see the culprit, but he yells out, "Hey! That was so rude! We were having a moment there!"

He dodges as another bullet flies past his shoulder. "A _gross_ moment!" Octane laughs back. "You guys were all _over_ each other! I did us all a favor. Right, guys?"

Another consensual round of agreement comes from the other end as everyone admits it was pretty gross to hear. Elliott only huffs and waits at the top of the site, grumbling about his romantic plans being thwarted as Bloodhound climbs back up to sit beside him and knock his shoulder lightly. He grins shyly, then lets himself lean into their side with a careless, wonderful, flutter swimming through his body.

It's safe to say all of the top Legends, including the latest hot shot, now know of the relationship between Elliott and Bloodhound. This made it a lot easier to be more romantic with each other since they didn't have to worry about how they might have to explain some situation. Elliott can freely press his body against Bloodhound's back when he's exhausted from a Game. He can run by to give them a swift peck if they're passing each other in the building. He can accept the offered hand that taps his when they're walking from point a to point b. Bloodhound doesn't have to pull him out of the room if they want to ask quietly if he'd like to go for dinner.

If the legends know it, then the officials do too. There isn't an uproar or anything, just a stop in the hall by one of the commissioners to tell them they think what the two of them have is nice. The board doesn't plan on using this new information for anything, but they say they hope a little extra passion to the Apex Games could be good for ratings. Bloodhound tells him relationships aren't likely to be discouraged during battle because warriors often fight harder when it's for someone they care about. Elliott shrugs it off. He's more than happy to take a risky kill just because Bloodhound is watching, or kill them just as easily because he knows he'll have them back in his arms in a few hours.

The media doesn't get a hold of their relationship until nearly a year later than the Legends. But by then, the news is so filled with the new Legend from Hammond and the fate of the man before him that their story is put on the back burner for its entire turn, which is of no loss to them. It gave them time to make up a story that wouldn't point to any potential leaks in their privacy. Again, it's only all the easier for Elliott to take Bloodhound out for a night in the city with their hands held tight and his grin blown wide.

He never imagined he would be in this position. When Elliott first went out that cold winter night, he initially was only looking for someone to spend the evening with. Then he searched for a friend in a stranger too curious for his own good, and found it all wrapped up in one, familiar Bloodhound. Neither of them especially knew where their nights out would take them, but they knew they enjoyed just being friends with satisfying benefits. He never thought they would be partners now. Partners who could warm each other with a press of their bodies when it's raining, who could give bright smiles and soft kisses in the safety of either home, who could share each other's scars and stories over a drink of acquired taste. Elliott never thought he would be able to love out in the open with Bloodhound, his closest friend, with all the best benefits.

**Author's Note:**

> There are 8 " - " total! If you just swam on through them, you should know they don't really matter, but im giving them to you anyway.
> 
> Eggs! I've got 3 little eggs in there about fun tidbits I never explicitly talked about. They are : a notable blessing Freyr may have given Elliott ; the trader that took the stomach in return for tools and bonus raven's blood ; the second soul that knows BH with and without a mask. For the first, u would need to search for a notable characteristic Freyr is often depicted with, the others are just inferences! 
> 
> Oh boy if you told me I started this series in July 2019 I would not believe you. I sincerely give all of my thanks to those of you following this since the beginning. Even to those of you who read it all in a binge once this is up, thank you for reading! All your comments give me life. They especially helped me through writing this, even if they were comments on my unrelated works. No matter how long ago I posted something, I will be sure to reply back because I do appreciate your little responses <3


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